


Folk Tales and Space Epics

by AmyZestyPond



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aromantic Dean, Asexual Castiel, Gen, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, star wars v star trek, the never ending debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyZestyPond/pseuds/AmyZestyPond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe they disagree on the most important science-fiction debate in history, and yes maybe it’s come close to destroying their friendship countless times over the past four years, but somehow Dean always reels him back in. They've gotten through four years of college together. Now, they just have to get through a two-week long family vacation to Hawaii.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folk Tales and Space Epics

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all my love to Wingz for being the best beta and providing me with all the Star Wars knowledge I lack. Love you <3  
> Also, special shoutout to @calaveracas for title inspiration. Weird conversations lead to wonderful things.

"Dean, if you don't get your ass out here in the next five minutes, I'm leaving without you," Cas shouts down the hallway of their shared apartment. They're supposed to be getting on a plane for a family vacation in two hours. Their families had been growing quickly into one ever since Dean and Cas met during their freshman year of college. Since commencement was last weekend, they wanted to take their newly-graduated sons somewhere to relax. Except "relaxing" apparently meant a Hawaiian island. As in, an island in the middle of the ocean, where the Impala can not be driven, which means they need to take a plane.

"Why Hawaii?" Dean asks as he drags his duffel bag to the front door. "That's my question. If they wanted me to relax, why did they think reservations on a remote island was a good idea?" He lifts his bag onto his shoulder as Cas pulls his keys out of his pocket. "I mean really, a plane? They want me to relax on a flying metal death trap?" Cas simply shakes his head as he locks the door behind them. He's been listening to Dean moan and groan about this ever since their parents told them about the vacation. He knows Dean doesn't like planes, so he expected some complaints, but this is getting to be a little outrageous.

"Dean," Cas interrupts the constant stream of complaints coming out of Dean's mouth. He’s learned over their past four years together that Dean doesn’t necessarily filter everything that comes out of his mouth, especially when he is either drunk or frustrated. "Just get in the damn taxi."

They manage to get through airport security and board the plane on time without any incidents, though Dean is muttering curses under his breath the entire time.

"Dean, please let go of my hand," Cas says after the plane has taken off and they're flying towards Hawaii, "you're going to cut off my circulation soon."

"Huh?" Dean turns toward him, surprise evident on his face. Oh Christ, he hadn't even noticed. How many hours of this is he going to have to endure? As soon as his hand is released from Dean's death grip, Cas pulls his bag out from beneath the seat, digging through it to find his headphones.

"Here," he says, handing them and his old iPod to the terrified man sitting beside him. If there’s anything besides Castiel himself that can calm Dean, it’s Led Zeppelin.

Somehow, they both manage to survive the plane ride with little to no damage to their sanity, although Dean’s arm rests may have suffered some permanent damage. Cas is only glad it wasn't his hands instead.

"Heya Dean-o!" a voice calls out from the crowd outside the airport. Their families had promised to send someone to pick them up despite their insistence on taking a taxi. They both would’ve appreciated an extra half hour to prepare themselves for this reunion, though Cas thinks perhaps Dean may have needed it more.

"Hello Gabriel," Cas says, the expected emotional drain hasn’t quite gotten his voice to a bored monotone yet, but it’s close. Cas loves his older brother dearly, truly he does, but he also wants to punch him in the face sometimes. Gabriel is rash and obnoxious, and to Castiel who typically prefers practicality, very annoying.

They suffer through the half hour car ride without Cas strangling his brother, though that accomplishment is mostly thanks to the fact that Dean can distract him by talking about something Cas very literally cannot care less about.

"Y'know Cassie," Gabriel says from the front seat, "I still don't get how you manage to date a Star Trek fan and not murder him." Of course, that one thing is Star Trek. They're only ten minutes away. They're so close to being able to barricade themselves in a hotel room for the night, instead of dealing with the endless comments and questions on their relationship. A relationship that goes no further than friendship, thank you very much. But, Gabriel has to ruin the last ten minutes of peace they're likely going to get on this “relaxing” vacation.

"If either of us is going to be murdered, I'm sorry Cas, but it’s gonna have to be you," Dean says, smiling at him through the rearview mirror. So maybe they disagree on the most important science-fiction debate in history, and yes maybe it’s come close to destroying their friendship countless times over the past four years, but somehow Dean always reels him back in. Cas likes to tease Dean and say he only sticks around because Dean would get himself killed by falling off a roof or something without Castiel around to stop him. Dean says it’s his charm. Neither of them can say the other is completely incorrect.

“We’ve had this conversation, Dean.” The beginning of a smile starts to form at the corner of Castiel’s lips. He can’t resist the temptation. No matter how many times they have this exact argument, neither will concede defeat. “If it came down to weapons, my lightsaber would undoubtedly be superior to… whatever it is you have.”

“A phaser!” Dean yells. “It’s called a phaser. How many times have I told you this?” Cas resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“It’s a gun,” he argues.

“At least it’s better than your fancy laser pointer!”

“The use of a lightsaber implies the ability to use the force, Dean.”

“Force is something measurable that can be defined most simply by the mass and acceleration of an object. Not some invisible… thing.” Dean waves his arms around as a vague explanation of what the “force” might be. “It’s a fancy laser pointer.”

“You just have trouble believing in anything spiritual,” Cas retaliates. If he didn’t enjoy arguing with Dean so much, he might wonder why he bothers. “The force is not quantitative. It is the ability to sense the living beings around you and their intentions.” It’s the same script every time with a few minor changes here and there whenever Dean thinks he’s come up with a better argument. “I know you're going to shoot before you do. Therefore with my Jedi reflexes, I have the ability to counter your shot and therefore will not die.” See, the problem isn’t that Dean doesn’t know what the force is. The problem is that he refuses to acknowledge it.

“Bullshit,” Dean says, effectively ending the argument. For now, at least. “How far is the hotel?”

Oh, right. Cas tends to lose track of his surroundings when he gets into a heated debate. He almost forgot where they were.

“Less than two minutes,” Gabe says. Castiel looks out the backseat window to the most gorgeous view he’s ever seen. The road is lined with palm trees, and the sky… The sky is the most stunning shade of blue. It looks more like a painting than real life.

Their hotel does nothing to ruin the illusion either. Castiel stares in awe at it for a minute before he can bring himself to gather his luggage. He glances over at Dean who’s standing beside him, eyes wide. Dean’s probably never seen anything like it before.

“C’mon lovebirds!” Gabe calls from across the parking lot. “Your honeymoon suite is this-a way.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, indicating a side entrance that is presumably closer to their rooms for the next two weeks.

“I’m here and I don’t even believe it’s real,” Dean says as they’re pulling their bags out of Gabe’s trunk.

“So do you think we’re getting separate rooms this time?” Cas asks casually. The first time they had gone on vacation together, their parents only booked one room for the two of them. Dean’s parents have never been fond of spending an unnecessary amount of money, so they all agreed one room would be easier. Then things got weird. When Dean came to stay with Cas’s family during winter break of their sophomore year, the Novaks had prepared a guest room for him. Except he never once stepped foot in it. When Cas stayed with the Winchesters the following summer, Mary hadn’t even bothered to get out the old air mattress. Either they were wholeheartedly ready to ask a guest to sleep on the living room couch, or Cas was expected to share Dean’s bed.

“I doubt it,” Dean answers. “But hey, maybe the honeymoon suite comes with champagne.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Castiel, who would have burst out laughing at the gesture when they first met. Now, he has more self-control. Now, he’s in on this practical joke.

“I hear the beds are really sturdy,” he retaliates, glimpsing at Dean with a look his friend has deemed Cas’s bedroom eyes.

“You wanna test it out?” Dean asks suggestively as they make their way to the entrance where Gabriel is still waiting for them.

“I don’t know. Think you can handle that?” Cas whispers, passing through the doorway with Dean laughing behind him.

“As much as I love seeing my baby brother in a happy relationship,” Gabriel interrupts. “I really don’t wanna hear about how great the sex is.” He pulls a small envelope from his pocket with the number 1605 written on the front in swirling script and hands it to Castiel. “Have fun, though!” He pats Dean on the back before leaving and calling over his shoulder, “Breakfast is 9AM!”

“Shall we?” Cas says.

 

Room 1605 is in fact the honeymoon suite. For the most part, it looks like any other hotel room, except it’s much larger than a small studio and there’s a king size bed in the single bedroom off to the left. As Dean had predicted, an unopened bottle of champagne is sitting on ice on the center table with a small card propped on the side. After dropping their luggage on the bed, Cas walks over to the center of the room, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Dear Dean and Castiel,” he reads aloud, “Congratulations. We’re so proud of you both. Enjoy yourselves tonight and we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Don’t be too late.”

“Aw how sweet,” Dean comments, grabbing the card from Cas’s hand. “You forgot to enunciate the exclamation marks, though. They exist for a reason, Cassie.”

“You do realize our parents are basically paying for a romantic getaway for us right?” He won’t deny the fact that he’s purposely trying to grate on Dean’s nerves. So, this whole thing their parents put together bugs him. So, what?

“Actually, they’re paying for us to have sex,” Dean responds with a wink. Cas almost resents that they know each other so well. Dean knows exactly how to provoke him and how to say the one thing in the perfect way so Cas can remember to be more objective about their situation. It’s not nearly as complicated as he’s making it out to be.

“You did mention breaking a few bedsprings.”

“Oh no, that one was all you, Cassie,” Dean teased.

“Stop calling me Cassie.”

“You love it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dean,” Cas moans, throwing his arm over the edge of the bed. “Why the fuck did you bring that thing.” He reaches for an extra pillow to cover his head with. Alarms should be illegal on vacation. He’s not here to wake up early and go jogging for fucks sake. Can’t he at least sleep in for one day?

“C’mon sleepy head,” Dean calls from somewhere outside the bedroom. “Breakfast at 9, remember?” Castiel opens one eye to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe, looking as if he actually got a decent amount of sleep even though Castiel knows that’s not true. Nope. No way. Castiel is not as well-practiced in the art of functioning like a normal human being as Dean Winchester is, and he’d rather sleep in than learn.

For some reason, Dean seems to be the only person who isn’t affected by Castiel’s death stare. Cas resents him for it. Personally, he’s always been more fond of the whole “death stare them away before they can cause any harm,” but Dean is immune. Cas just pulls the duvet high above his head and closes his eyes. If only he could will himself back to sleep. If only it were that easy.

“Y’know,” Dean ventures as he grabs his old, leather jacket from the closet, “I’m not bringing you coffee if you sleep in.” Cas peeks out from underneath the duvet to see Dean, dressed, ready to go, and smirking at him from the doorway. He can’t be serious. Cas glances between his friend and the bedside clock. The glowing red numbers read 8:57 AM. He has three minutes before they’re both late. Yeah, he can do this. He can do it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be happy about it.

He groans as he drags himself out from underneath the warm nest of blankets and heads immediately to the bathroom. After what should have been the quickest shower of his life, although he’s sure Dean can attest to the fact it wasn’t, Castiel dresses and finds his trench coat hanging in the closet, despite knowing for certain he hadn’t bothered to hang it up the night before.

“Ready yet, sleeping beauty?” Dean teases.

“Coffee,” is Castiel’s tired response.

“Ah right,” Dean agrees, closing the door quietly behind them, “How could I forget that smart brain of yours doesn’t function right during daytime hours?” Normally, that comment would’ve earned him another icy glare from Castiel, but not before noon. Early in the morning, Castiel tends to resemble a zombie more than an intelligent human being. He’s spent the past four years studying astronomy. Something that almost never required him to be awake before noon. Want him to stand on a roof until nearly midnight? Sure, no problem. Ask him to wake up before noon and you get… well… this.

 

“Castiel!” Mary Winchester greets them in the hotel lobby, arms outstretched.

“Careful, Mom,” Dean says, “Poor baby hasn’t had his coffee yet.” He’s pouting at Castiel now, puppy dog eyes set to full force. Mary reprimands her son with a playful slap on the arm before bringing Castiel into a hug. He may not admit it this early in the morning, but he is glad to see her. It’s been awhile since he’s gotten a chance to spend time with the whole Winchester family.

“Oh well, we just have to fix that, then. Don’t we?” Mary says with a smile.

 

They meet the rest of their families at a nearby diner, where Castiel immediately orders a cup of coffee, black as per usual. They get a room to themselves off to the side to make room for everyone. Cas and Dean sit at a long table with their parents, Dean’s younger brother, and, rather unfortunately in Castiel’s opinion, Gabriel. The rest of Castiel’s many siblings are relegated to a nearby booth. Everyone stays focused on their menus until the waitress comes to take their orders. Honestly, if Castiel weren’t so tired, the awkwardness would be horrible.

“How was your flight?” Mrs. Novak asks politely. This is basically how Castiel would sum up his step-mother. No matter who she’s speaking to, she’s more clinical than personal. Castiel is certain that she knows of Dean’s fear of flying by now, but does she consider that? Absolutely not. Anyone else would avoid the topic altogether, but what does Naomi do? Brings it up immediately, of course.

“Long,” Dean groans. Castiel wishes he wasn’t so used to this.

“Well it’s a good thing you have Cas around, then,” Sam says. Cas likes Sam. He’s liked him since the moment they met, way before Sam’s growth spurt. He’s almost certain that if Sam weren’t four years younger than Dean and himself, they’d spend a lot more time together. Sometimes, he thinks Dean’s glad Sam is so much younger.

“Yeah, I’m sure our Cassie found some way to make it more bearable,” Gabriel interjects.

“Gabe,” Castiel warns his brother. He is not arguing about this while he’s still on his first cup of coffee.

“Well, I’m sure you’re both glad to finally get a vacation,” Mary says, returning some semblance of peace to the conversation. Castiel thanks God for Mary Winchester.

“You got the champagne, right?” Gabe asks. Dean laughs at the reminder of their first night in the hotel. Castiel attempts to will himself not to blush, but unfortunately, that isn’t how the human body works. He can feel his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Gabe winks.

“Oh come on,” Sam complains. “I did not need to be reminded of that during breakfast!”

“Sure you don’t want the juicy details, Sammy?” Dean teases. Castiel has reasoned by now that that’s something big brothers do. At least, he’s not the only little brother who has to put up with the never-ending teasing.

“There are no juicy details,” Castiel says. All he wants to do is drink his coffee and eat his pancakes in peace. Or at least, without any insinuation towards whatever sexual relations his family believes he is having with his best friend.

“I don’t know about that,” Dean argues innocently. “Things did get kind of…” he pauses for dramatic effect and Cas knows exactly what’s coming next, “heated.” Gabriel almost falls out of his seat, roaring with laughter, while Sam cringes and begs his brother to stop right there. Castiel just rolls his eyes. Things definitely got heated last night, but not in the way their brothers are thinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~

_The night before_

Castiel hears the hotel-room door open from where he’s been laying in their king-size bed for the past fifteen minutes. Dean had suggested a movie night, since drinking is always more fun with bad movies.

“Ok I’ve got the popcorn,” Dean calls from the kitchen. “Gimme like… ” he pauses, presumably to read the directions on the side of the bag, “ah shit I don’t know, maybe three minutes?” Castiel grins as he pictures his best friend fumbling with the bag of popcorn kernels. Dean may have a degree in mechanical engineering now, but he is still one of the clumsiest people Castiel has ever met when it involves everyday things. Such as making popcorn, for instance.

Castiel glances back toward the flat-screen television to make sure he hid the DVD case. He wants to surprise Dean with the movie choice.

“I’m just gonna press play,” Cas calls back. “We gotta get through the previews anyway.” He presses play on the home screen and lays back against the headboard.

“Seriously, dude,” Dean says as he saunters in with the bowl of popcorn two minutes later. “That’s like the only upside to VHS. You could skip the fucking previews.” Castiel just laughs and offers up the bottle of champagne.

By the time the title screen pops up, they’re both leaning against the headboard, popcorn bowl and bottle of champagne nestled between them. Castiel takes a sip from the champagne as the first of his chosen movies finally begins. God knows he’s gonna need it.

“Star Wars?!” Dean practically screams. “We do not have enough alcohol for this, dude.”

“You said to choose a bad movie,” Cas says. “So we’re watching the prequels.” He can almost hear Dean rolling his eyes. “Just be glad I didn’t interpret bad as Star Trek.”

“Nah, man. You should’ve put on one of the reboot series. JJ Abrams fucking ruined them.” He grabs the bottle from Cas’s hands. “Now that is a bad movie.” Castiel hasn’t seen all of the new Star Trek movies. To be completely honest, he doesn’t even know how many there are at this point. He did enjoy the one he did bother to watch, though he shouldn’t be surprised Dean disagrees.

“Really?” he takes the bait and asks anyway. “I actually enjoyed the newer Star Trek movie.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, as he stuffs his face with a handful of popcorn. “That’s because it’s more like a war movie. JJ Abrams doesn't even like Star Trek. I don’t know why anyone thought it was a good idea to let him direct. Why the fuck would you let a Star Wars fan direct Star Trek?! It doesn’t make sense and all you get is a bad movie.” Okay, maybe Dean has a point. Castiel definitely didn’t appreciate someone who didn’t fully understand the point of Star Wars suddenly being in charge of releasing new Star Wars material. That’s exactly why he refuses to acknowledge the prequels as Star Wars canon.

“I see your point,” Castiel concedes. “But if you don’t like the new movies, how come you watch them so often?” He can’t count the number of times he’s sat awake in the middle of the night, listening to the unmistakable sounds of the Star Trek reboot series coming from Dean’s bedroom. Not to mention the time Dean dragged him out to watch the orchestra perform alongside a showing of the movie.

“Because, Zachary Quinto is hot,” Dean responds without missing a beat. Castiel just rolls his eyes and grabs another handful of popcorn. They’ve already missed the beginning of the movie, not that it matters much.

They probably could have spent the rest of the night like this, cuddled on their king-size bed, making jabs at the horrible movies. Which is exactly what they do for most of the night. By the time the last movie is over, the popcorn bowl has been abandoned on a side table and they’ve nearly finished the bottle of champagne. Then, as usual, Dean decides to open his mouth.

“Y’know,” he says, “that actually wasn’t” _hiccup_ “as bad as you said.”

“They ruined everything good about the series,” Castiel argues. This might be the one argument he doesn’t have a set script for yet. They’ve gone through nearly every reason to like or dislike both Star Wars and Star Trek at least a million times over the past four years. Somehow, the prequels were never a huge part of that conversation.

“No way!” Dean says, excitedly. Oh no. “At least these are more than just war movies.”

“The acting is horrendous,” Castiel interrupts.

“Yes true, but…”

“And it’s horribly produced. I won’t even go into the problems with Jar Jar Binks.”

“Well, duh. It’s Star Wars,” Dean agrees.

“It’s completely focused on politics…”

“Exactly!” Dean screams.

“Instead of bothering to put together a decent plot,” Castiel finishes, glaring at Dean across the bed. Somehow, they’ve moved away from basically cuddling to sitting on opposite sides of the bed and staring each other down. “How come the only time you seem to care about politics is when it involves fictional space?”

“Okay, one,” Dean says, holding up his fingers to emphasize the point, “I do pay attention to politics. And two, fictional space politics makes for a great plot device. What the hell did you think Star Trek was about?” He fumbles around on his side of the bed before holding up the empty popcorn bowl and staring inside.

“I don’t know, gay aliens?” Castiel ventures.

Dean sighs and sets the empty bowl back down on the table. “You’re lucky there’s no more popcorn, or else I’d be throwing it at you.”

“Good thing I have the champagne, then.” That gets Dean’s attention faster than anything Cas has ever seen.

“C’mon,” he pleads, “we both know it won’t do you any good.” He holds out his hand, reaching for the bottle of champagne. “You don’t even get drunk.” Cas pulls the bottle a little farther out of reach, laughing as Dean nearly falls on his face trying to grab it. He knows every word of it is true. His alcohol tolerance is so high, he would need at least an entire bottle to himself just to get buzzed. But that doesn’t mean he has to admit it. Torturing Dean is way more entertaining.

“Admit that it’s a horrible movie,” Cas says, dangling the bottle teasingly over the edge of the bed.

“I never said it was a good movie!” Castiel raises an eyebrow, but moves the bottle a little closer. “I mean, it’s Star Wars, so it’s never gonna be good.” And the bottle is, once again, over the edge of the bed.

“It’s not bad because it’s Star Wars,” Castiel says. He knows he shouldn’t be bothering with this argument, but he’s been awake too long and the champagne is starting to affect his thought process, so he can’t quite stop himself. “It was bad because it was overall a horrible movie. There was no characterization. No plot twists. No love story.” He can feel Dean tuning him out, but he continues anyway. Once he gets started ranting about the prequels, stopping isn’t really an option. “No well-written villains that make you worry. No entertainment. And don’t even get me started on Anakin Skywalker.” Somewhere along the line, he must’ve forgotten that he was trying to keep Dean away from the champagne because the next thing he knows, Dean’s tackling him and the bottle is lost.

“Seriously dude,” Dean says as he sits back up. “You cannot expect me to sit through that entire rant,” he pauses to take a long sip from the bottle. “Without any alcohol immediately available.” Castiel doesn’t bother to get up from where he is now laying across the bed, opting instead to roll his eyes and throw a pillow in his best friend’s face. “Besides, your expectations are way too high.”

“No they aren’t. My expectations are at just the right level for a movie in this franchise.”

“Ok, well please explain to me why you own these movies if you hate them so much,” Dean says. Except he probably shouldn’t have because now the idea is forming in Cas’s head. He’s had these movies for longer than he can remember despite the fact that he’s always hated them. So why keep them?

“How difficult do you think it would be to burn a DVD?” he asks, already moving to retrieve the movies from the TV stand.

“Wait what?! You’re not gonna actually burn the DVDs are you?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers. “If they don’t burn, we can find another method.” He picks up the first DVD, examining it as carefully as he can in his current state. “But I’m confident they’ll burn.” Movies in hand, he goes in search of a lighter. There should be one somewhere in this suite.

Scrambling off the bed, Dean runs after his apparently deranged friend.

“Dude you are not burning the DVDs!”

“Of course I am.” He’s routing around the kitchen cabinets for a lighter.

“You’ll set the whole room on fire.”

“Dean, this was your suggestion. I don’t see why you’re so against it.”

“I’d rather not get kicked out of Hawaii before going to the beach.” Castiel actually glares at him for that one. However, he seems to think better of it as he abandons his kitchen search and walks back to the bedroom, DVDs still in hand. Dean slumps back against the wall and sighs. At least he isn’t planning on burning the hotel down anymore.

Or so he thought.

Cas reenters the suite’s kitchen less than a minute lighter, holding Dean’s personal lighter.

“Honestly, how could I have forgotten about your lighter? You always carry this thing.” He twirls it around his long fingers, casually eyeing the intricate designs. Before Dean can process exactly what’s going on, Cas has flipped open his lighter and set _The Phantom Menace_ alfame.

Castiel watches as the heat engulfs the disk, warming his hand along with it. The flames are entrancing. If he weren’t stuck in a hotel room in a foreign state, he’d be tempted to build a bonfire, maybe make some s’mores. Now, that would be satisfying.

“Alright pyro, are you happy now? You destroyed a DVD.” Castiel looks back to Dean at the comment. He had gotten lost in his own thoughts. Silently, he looks back at the disk burning in his hand. Ever so slowly, he nods. Maybe the champagne affected him more than he expected it to.

Gently, Dean takes the charred ruins from his friend and puts out the fire. He slips an arm over Castiel’s shoulders and squeezes.

“Whaddya say we test out those bed springs now?” he whispers. The comment earns him a small shove, but Castiel is smiling nonetheless.

“What time is it?” he asks, falling flatly onto the mattress.

“Uhh…” he hears Dean fumbling around on the other side of the bed for a minute. “Somewhere around three-ish…? Maybe?”

“We have to be at breakfast in six hours.” Castiel groans and covers his face with his forearm. “Why is travelling so exhausting?”

“Right. It was definitely the travelling,” Dean teases. “Not y’know staying up to marathon three really bad movies.” When he gets no response, he leans over to find his best friend sound asleep. Shaking his head, he cleans up their earlier mess, leaving the empty popcorn bowl and bottle of champagne in the kitchen to be dealt with later. He hangs up Cas’s trench coat in the closet next to his own leather jacket and sets an alarm for the following morning, before finally climbing into bed. They have the next two weeks to catch up on much-needed sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering adding a chapter or so more to this, so let me know if you enjoyed it! Like every writer, I thrive on attention.


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